A lot has been written about Heinlein’s five rules of writing and I’m going to write a little bit more. Like a lot of writers, I enjoy writing about writing. In this case, that joy is nested because I’m also writing about someone else’s writing about writing.
Because of when and how I grew up, Heinlein was a foundational writer for me. I read a lot of his pre-1970 work because it was easily available in libraries wherever I happened to be living at the time. And I enjoyed most of what I read, even if his characters weren’t always all that deep, especially in short fiction.
First, the rules.
- You must write.
- You must finish what you start.
- You must refrain from rewriting (except to editorial demand).
- You must put it on the market.
- You must keep it on the market until sold.
These were first published, if I can trust what I’ve read online, in 1947 when he was still “just” a short story writer, although Rocket Ship Galileo was published the same year, and there was a novella or two which sometimes got published as short novels at the time. Short fiction is the lens I think Heinlein’s rules should be seen through, although they can apply to novel-length work as well, with a warning or observation on one point.
I’ll often use the second person in the paragraphs that follow as that’s how things are expressed in the originals. One at a time:
You must write.
It’s hard to expand much on this one, really. None of the rest matters if you don’t get some words into the keyboard or typewriter or notebook, whatever your preference for drafting is. Get the words down and then start the editing process, whatever that means for you.
Warning for applying this to novels: no warning here. The same rule applies. Get your butt in the chair.
You must finish what you start.
This one, I’m not going to interpret for Heinlein or anyone else but myself. As far as I’m concerned, finish means final draft, not first draft. The vast majority of the time, the first draft of a story isn’t a finished story for most people (with tremendous respect to Dean Wesley Smith). I’ve successfully written a small number of first draft flash-length stories that only needed a word or two changed after the fact, but I normally work on a four-draft process (which I’m sure I’ve talked about before) before I consider a story potentially fit for other human eyes. Just like an emotional reaction to something that bothers us or an email that needs some backup arguments or detail where the vast majority of the time our first response is very unlikely to be our best response, a first draft is not going to be the best draft. There are a lot of first drafts out there that should have had some polishing. You need to figure out when to stop editing, though. There’s a tipping point where you’re improving a story on one side and just moving words around on the other. That can come at a different point for each story, and it’s essentially why I’ve built my process into what it is.
Warning for applying this to novels: the longer the story, the more involved at least the second draft becomes. For me, revisiting the first draft has to be with a critical eye to find as many of the problems with it that I can. Lots of notes attached to the text. With the problems fixed, I can move on to polishing prose.
You must refrain from rewriting (except to editorial demand).
Rewriting and editing are two very different things. Editing was in step 2. Rewriting is taking a finished story and starting over with some or all of it. I consider this a waste of time unless it’s “to editorial demand”. And in my eyes, editorial demand means that the editor has already agreed to buy your story and wants to help you make it better. Even granting that I haven’t spent a huge amount of time submitting stories, I’ve twice had a response that runs something like, “I liked this story, but it didn’t quite work for me. If you make these massive changes, I’d be happy to look at the story again.” Thank you for your time spent so far, but I’ll have to move on. Famous or not (and I’m not), I need to have respect for my time. A potentially complete rewrite for the privilege of sending you the story again is not nearly as attractive as some editors seem to think it is. A few minor tweaks, maybe. A major rewrite, no.
Warning for applying this to novels: I think this needs to be both stronger and more relaxed for novels. I’m firm on the idea that you shouldn’t do any major edits unless there’s an agreement of publication, but the feedback that comes with that semi-rejection or offer to resubmit should be considered carefully. You don’t have to take and use whatever it is, but you should honestly consider whether it would make the story better. Especially if you get it more than once.
You must put it on the market.
Send it out. There are more potential story markets than there have ever been before. A good story will eventually find a home, so the common wisdom goes, but there are three components: right story, right editor, right time. All three of them have to come together for the story to sell. That said, in the digital age when a lot of the traditional spots that used to pay well have disappeared or massively shrunk and we’ve seen the rise of independent publishing, that market might be self-produced.
Warning for applying this to novels: when it comes to novel-length work, the larger the publisher, the more traditional publishing is slow, unwieldy, and resistant to change, and the economics of the set up aren’t in favour of the author. Even with small presses, things don’t exactly move quickly, especially when it comes to fiction. Response times can be measured in double-digit numbers of months and acceptance to publication can be two to three years for one book. Indie publishing starts to look a lot more attractive, but remember it can come down to being a one-person show.
You must keep it on the market until sold.
If you send it to an external market and it gets rejected, send it somewhere else. Keep doing that. Or publish it yourself, that can work too.
Warning for applying this to novels: it’s all about the timeline. If it takes six months, say, to get a rejection from an agent or publisher, then you can only send something out twice in a year. How much waiting are you willing to do for one story? And you should probably be working on the next one while you wait. And probably the one after that.
Outro
Those are my basic thoughts on Heinlein’s rules. Are they different from other opinions or thoughts about them you can find on the internet? That’s a tough question since I haven’t read nearly all of them even if I have come across them a bunch of time, but I have seen some similarities at least. But whether these thoughts are original or not, they are my interpretation of things, and yours could easily be different.
Be well, everyone.
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